The Words That Wouldn't Come
by NCISthemedname
Summary: It's been a year since Booth first said "I love you" to Bones. Bones left for Maluku; Booth for Afghanistan. It's been three months since they returned. Booth is with Hannah. Bones is alone. What will happen when those words just won't come


**I do not own 'Bones' – it is owned by Fox or some company like that.**

How could she not have known? Things like this didn't compute for her. She had never had any long lasting relationships. He, her partner, had been with her the longest but in a different way. He never pushed, never expressed what he wanted before all of this. Now that she looked back, she was able to see evidence that he meant every word he said.

Everytime she was in danger, he was there. For every monster she ever faced, he would face it with her even when the monster was herself. He opened her world to new possibilities, to new realities. Though still very heavy in anthropology and all other sciences, she also understood the appeal of religion, the concept of families. She could understand people, the individuals. She could read them. Not as well as he could but well enough to get by. She understood better the need for psychology, no matter how much she hated it. And all of this, and more, was all his fault. All his doing, to be corrected.

She then started to think of him. His tall stature, his facial bones, his almost perfect proportions – she shook her head and sighed. She couldn't think of him as another set of bones. He was more than that. He was brave, courageous, smart (in his own way; he was nowhere near as smart as she was), patient – subtle. His protective behavior towards everyone he cared about, especially her. His subtle way of always being around her, or not-so-subtle during her brief relationships with other men. His rash behavior even had her smiling. His sensitivity to certain perfectly normal subjects. His hands constantly on his gun when they were with someone who could endanger her. His strong arms around her slender frame whenever she was hurt or felt like falling apart. His dark brown eyes always on her, never scrutinizing her, never dark with anger towards her. When he broke out his irresistible cocky smile, his eyes sparkled as if the star filled night sky had been placed onto a dark brown palate. His light soft lips always saying the right words or placing a small kiss in her hair for comfort. His subtle way of "going rogue" as he said, with his changed in his wardrobe. Even after his illness, he still remembered (after a while) about his difference and added tight fitting vests. She had to admit she found that _very_ sexy, as had other women, as it enhanced his physique.

She then realized what she had to do. She just didn't know how. She rose from her bed, groping in the dark for her phone. She forgot she had left it in her living room. For another five minutes, she searched until she found it. Once she did, she sat down and flipped open her phone. For almost a minute, she argued whether to do this now or wait. What if she did this now and regretted it later? What if she waited and never did it? In a single irrational moment, she dialed the well worn number and hit the small green button. After a few rings and unconsciously holding her breath, he answered. He grunted unrecognizable words. It was 2:30 a.m. She breathed out.

"I don't know how to do this. I've never done this. I'm afraid of messing up. I can't sleep. I can't stop thinking. Anthropologically speaking – " She rushed through.

"What's the point?" he mumbled. She breathed again.

"I love you." Silence. On both ends. She didn't explain. She couldn't explain. He didn't ask. He didn't respond. After a minute or two, she heard something that broke her heart.

"Baby, who's that?" A young woman's voice. He didn't respond. Instead, he hung up. She sat there with the phone to her ear as the tears formed in her eyes and trailed down her blushing, yet drained, face. She dropped her phone onto the couch. In shock, she let the tears fall in a way she hadn't allowed in years. She curled up into a ball and wept.

Across town, the man was also in shock. He had waited so long to hear those words from her and yet he didn't know what to do. The woman next to him nudged him and asked him again.

"Who was that, baby?"

He looked at her. Now wide awake, he was able to see her clearly. Her beautiful round face, dozing back into a slumber, no longer had any ties for him. Her long hair sprawled everywhere was no longer appealing. It hadn't been in months if he told himself the truth. Sleeping only in one of his t-shirts after a failed attempt to seduce him, she looked like a small child. He knew she had caught on to his deteriorating attraction to her but in her desperation to hace such a sexy man, she tried every trick in the book to keep him. He never accepted them. Every night was the same. Every night, he went straight to sleep. No kisses, no hugs, nothing but sleep. And now he could admit he absolutely knew why. He kissed her lightly on the forehead. As he slipped out of bed, he answered.

"My heart."

Her head pounded as the tears stopped flowing from her closed swollen eyes. It wasn't that she was okay. Her body just didn't have any more tears to shed. She sniffed and tried to forget everything that had happened. Instead, she fell into deeper despair. He could never love her, not after everything she had put him through. She arose off the couch and headed to her laptop in her writing room. She turned it on and began to write her story. Their story. After an hour of furious typing, and drudging up old memories. She was almost to the present when a small sound stopped her thoughts. She saved her writing before rising to find the source of the noise. After a minute or two, she realized it was knocking. She cautiously made her way to the door, careful not to trip in the dark. She opened to a tall wet silhouette standing in the doorway. Fresh tears welled into her eyes. He moved closer but she subconsciously moved away. He halted. Now in the dim moon light, she could make out that his white t-shirt clung to his well taken care of, muscular body. His dark brown hair clung to his forehead and dripped into his unblinking eyes. His faded jeans sagged slightly with the weight of the rainwater. He was shivering slightly from anger or excitement or cold, she knew not. She wanted him to do something, say something, anything! Her still pounding brain couldn't come up with any demands to the rest of her body. All synapses were severed, so to say. All she could think of was one word. One word she didn't want to say. But her mouth didn't listen.

"Don't."

She felt like he knew what he was there to do. In person, break her heart as she did to him. He didn't move. He didn't respond. Then, in one swift movement, too quickly for her to comprehend, his lips crushed hers and his large hands grabbed her small waist. She didn't resist this time, as she had on so many other occasions. But this was different. It was better, even better than their first kiss. True, he was drunk and she was tipsy but even that kiss was amazing. This one though had love. It had passion. It wasn't forced by outsiders, by undercover operation personas, by need, by desperation. It was by them, for them.

They were glued together until the need to breathe was undeniable. She peeled her now wet front from his body, hands still griping his shoulders in surprise. He opened his brown eyes and gazed into her beautiful ocean blue ones. He then uttered those words one more time. Once more with so much resounding truth that it hurt. With one more rejection, he knew he'd break. He prayed she wouldn't again.

"I love you."

She took a step back and looked troubled. Here it was, the rejection again. He could feel his heart breaking.

"What about Ha-" Before she could finish the name, he kissed her again. He broke it only to say, "Does that answer your question? I don't love her." She smiled and kissed him with so much fervor, she was sure she'd break him. After a few minutes, he picked her up bridal style and spun her around, never breaking the kiss. She giggled into his mouth as he sat down, still holding her, onto her nearby couch. Laying her across his lap, he held onto her as if he knew he'd lose her. She pulled back and said one more time with a feeling a hope and true, for the first time in her life, true happiness. "I love you, Booth." He smiled.

"I've waited seven years to hear those words." He kissed her then said, "I love you too, Bones."

**A/N: I have recently gotten Netflix which started my constant watching of 'Bones.' When I started this one-shot, I was going to pair Angela and Booth (more out of reactions than my actual shipping them because I don't) but when it got down to naming names, I couldn't do it. I hope you like this. I do. Go Brennanites! And Boothers or whatever they're called! I 3 Booth. **


End file.
